


Win Win

by orphan_account



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Anal Sex, Bible Kink, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Hotel Sex, M/M, Pubic Hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Donald J. Trump is forced to spend a night alongside Ted Cruz in a luxury hotel, after they ran out of rooms for plot convenience. This gives Ted the opportunity to make off with his heart (or, you know, the hotel bible).It really brings a new meaning to "Love thy neighbor", don't you think?





	Win Win

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say this before I begin: This story is 100% illogical. Neither does it reflect my viewpoints-This is just a crack fic inspired by my friend Caroline, with the sole purpose of cringe. Carry on.

His limo pulled up very slowly to the front of the golden tower that shared his namesake. The flashing lights from press caravans was almost overwhelming, but not to somebody who was used to it. Because this wasn't just any limo-riding billionaire, this was the billionaire, Donald J. Trump.

He strolled confidently into the hotel, his silky, cornlike-hair bristling in the sharp wind. The warm burst of air was welcomed graciously by the 69 year old, who had only a thin coat.

Swaggering over to the front lobby staff, the powerful man demanded the finest room. It  _was his hotel after all._

"You can't get a room here," the tall, papery white woman informed him.

"Why not?" Trump retaliated with anger. "I am the owner of this establishment!"

"Mister Trump, you will be rooming with another man in this hotel because it moves the plot line along."

He sighed in defeat.

"As long as it isn't Cruz, I'll be fine."

"Thank you very much Mister Trump, it is much appreciated. Please proceed to room number 123," The woman smiled.

To his luck, the quarters were on the first floor. He unlocked the metal door, and shuffled quietly inside, wishing that one of his many henchmen were able to assist with lugging his luggage around. If that small loan of a million dollars had done anything for him, the purchase of fashionable suits was high on his list of luxuries.

He began reconsidering the hasty acceptance of his sleeping arrangements. There was only a single, queen-sized bed located in the center of the room; the same one he would be forced to share. If his roommate wasn't a beautiful young woman, he was going to force them onto the chaise for the night.

All had changed when Ted Cruz walked through that dingy-metal doorframe.

His dark hair was lined with a trail of water, as the hike he had taken up the three porch steps generated a hot-feeling outweighed by any cold front. His white, traditional button down was translucent with all of the soaking. Donald just stared in awe, observing the man's every move.

He felt something stir inside of him...His Trump Stump™ began to wiggle with shots of pleasure, and the heat from the room began to infiltrate his pores. It wasn't long before he was sweating like a sinner in church, and let's just say the reason wasn't the lack of A/C.

He looked away from Ted and stacked his suitcases on the left side of the bed, silently inviting him to unload his items onto the mattress. He took the invitation with the raise of an eyebrow, and trotted across the floor until he was touching arms with moist cheeto skin every time he swung the zipper around the bend.

They moved in tandem, neither uttering a single vowel, but both suffering in the same way. Heidi Cruz had been away on business as well, leaving Ted hot and bothered after a particularly steamy phone call about bible verses. She knows what the word of the lord does to him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid reaching into the wooden cabinet and going to town in the worn pages of the hotel book. But alas, with Donald Trump getting ready to sleep next to him, it wasn't even a possibility. Paper thin doors covered the restroom, and the moans and wet squelching he made would be too loud to cover up.

For the rest of remaining daylight, not even formalities were uttered back and forth. An awkward silence hovered between them like an erect penis; obvious and hard to swallow.

_"Trump is married to Melania, right?"_ Cruz thought, causing his waistline 'compass' to point north. The thought of cheating was terribly exciting, he hadn't sinned in a long while.

Ted moved slowly over to the orange man opposite him, swinging his hips sensually.

"Same-sex marriage leads to hate speech," He stated, breaking the ice between them, "So let's act like a YouTube comments section, baby."

Donald gasped violently, whipping around to view the pale man in all of his 5'10" glory. He outstretched his fleshy tendrils to embrace Cruz in a sloppy, needing kiss.

"Please Donald...I need this," Ted moaned, barely breaking contact with the carrot's puckered lips. Trump did not respond. He thought it unnecessary. Instead, he poked his tongue into the mouth opposite him experimentally-Testing the waters if you will-and began slowly moving his hand toward Ted's backside.

"Tonight, you need to call me 'Teddy the Leaddy'" he growled, grabbing the spray tan mountain's hand forcefully and smacking his own ass with it. Trump screamed, his thin dress pants hiding the bright red hand-print that was slowly developing on his peachy ass.

Although neither man had ever had any non-platonic interaction with a member of the same sex, they were surprisingly enthralled with eachother. Raunchy hands roamed freely tonight, no consequences tomorrow.

"Give me all of your attention, Teddy the Leaddy. I don't want you looking at anyone else tonight."

Ted groaned inwardly, thrusting his fully-clothed body and running his fingers through cornsilk hair. He couldn't help but wonder if the carpet matched the drapes.

He decided to take action immediately. He dropped trough and revealed himself. Not much had sprung out from his plain white underwear, but it was enough for his wife Heidi to appreciate.

He slid Trump's undergarments around his ankles, admiring the sight before him. Golden pubes sprouted around the current object of his affection, greased and styled with a glorious combover. Ted was suddenly struck with a wave of embezzlement-How would his 70's afro match up to this modern work of art?

But his partner was not deterred. He took one look at the thick bush of dark hair and licked his lips.

"That's so retro, you groovy dude," Trump exclaimed, and began pleasuring Cruz with care. His hands were petting his crotch gently, matting the Afro to reveal a larger portion of his new treat.

Trump's small tongue slid around the tip of Ted's genitals, provoking a couple of spastic thrusts. The hot rod was shoved forcefully down the smooth tunnel, knocking against solid-gold plated tonsils.

"Suck! Cock!" Ted yelled when he hit them, startling Trump enough to cause him to eject the contents poking at his body.

Between fountains of spit, Donald managed to choke out a "My previous sugar daddy bought the tonsils for me," which must have been difficult with a penis tickling your throat.

Cruz stopped suddenly and pulled out. "Wait," he said, backing up. "You had a sugar daddy too?"

Trump nodded swiftly, wrinkles smacking him gently. "Yeah, but he isn't really in that business anymore. Got himself a wife and a devoted fan base."

"Let me guess; about 5' 6, wore guyliner, shipped most commonly with a man in a fedora, really emo back in the day?"

"Holy shit."

Something about what they had in common spurred another make out session, both flaccid at this point. They may have been driven by crazed hormones, but smashing each other with a floppy wasn't even a considerable option. Luckily, Trump had viagra and about 30 minutes to spare.

* * *

 

Trump was finally semi-hard, and climbed atop Ted's slightly smaller frame. Using a mixture of saliva and whatever brand of hair gel happened to be on the top of the luggage, Donald rubbed the sticky, gel-like substance around his dick and Ted's asshole.

"Mm, yes daddy, just like that. Rub your sticky fingers around my entrance and fuck me like we're announcing your presidency!" Ted moaned.

"How did he know I have an audience kink?" Trump wondered quietly, slowly adding pressure to his expanding organ. It slid slowly into place, balls-deep.

The top pulled out all the way (an impressive 4½ inches I may add, but size doesn't matter), and sheathed his mighty flesh sword into its tight, puckered hilt over and over in a staggering rhythm, made to be together.

"Bing bing bong" Trump repeated, a mantra to keep his ejaculate inside of his body. A thanks really, to the tanning gods for the opportunity his wrinkly pumpkin skin has given him.

All while Ted rocked between Donald's hips, begging for a climax. He almost screamed when it arrived.

Donald took a deep breath, and exhaled with some rank breath loudly in Ted's ear as he came.

_"CHINAAAAAAAA"_

"Brush your teeth, _daddy."_ Ted whispered softly, pulling himself from Trump's clutches and sliding the micropenis from his rectum. They tucked themselves into bed, not bothering to get dressed in their nightgowns.

Ted rolled over into Trump's arms. They laid together, cum-soaked and sweaty. After a long stretch of deliberation, Cruz spoke up.

"I want to show you something."

A chorus of protests filtered through the air as Ted left the bed, rooting around in his suitcase. He pulled out a ruined bible, the pages torn and stuck together. There was a cylindrical-shaped hole worn through the pages preventing a straight close.

"This here," he said, offering the book, "is my fappin' bible."

Trump fingered the pages carefully, strings of sticky fluid holding on as the leaflets turned. He rubbed his sausages over the almost clear and crusty bumps.

"I wanted to give it to you."

The Donald was shocked. The notorious item of his new lover's affection was now in his possession?

"Don't worry about me," Ted said, stuffing the hotel bible into his luggage, "I'm all covered."

(Which was ironic of course, because both men were still standing with their dicks out.)

"How about..." Trump trailed off, popping another viagra. "How about we put this old fappin' bible to use?"

"That," Ted responded with a swoon, "Sounds lovely."

Needless to say, it was a win-win situation that night.


End file.
